


Storage Room

by saphique



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, My First Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, no angst just smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9425366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphique/pseuds/saphique
Summary: Bernie wanted to keep it confined to theatre. Serena accepted only with the condition that they extend their restrictions to anywhere on hospital ground, definitely saying no more about it but certainly acting on it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sending love and thanks to my talented and generous beta Bitchenware who generously revised my fic before publishing. All remaining mistakes are mine. I'm not a native English speaker.  
> Enjoy this smutty scene, forget about the actual angst.

Bernie wanted to keep it confined to theatre. Serena accepted only with the condition that they extend their restrictions to anywhere on hospital ground, definitely saying no more about it but certainly acting on it. They haven't really defined or thought about naming the relation they have, intermingled with friendly support and raw, sweaty, vigorous intercourse. Somewhere in the back of her head, Serena remembers the designation of 'friends with benefits'. Anyhow, she doesn't care. You could call them anything you'd want. She's the one having orgasms. Plus, they both felt pleased, eased of stiffness and regenerated after a quickie somewhere on the ward. Each time their smiles or their stares extend too long; every time frustration over colleagues or patients inducts tension; times when the ward is too quiet or too busy… they manage to find a way to sneak in a corner and fix the problem in an impressively rapid, never graceful, always effective way. They are good at what they are allowing themselves to do, which is screwing around. Indeed, equals. Powerful equals.

Never has love been evoked, it doesn't matter to neither of them. As long as they can sneak away, grab, lick, moan, blush, rub, drench, suck, groan, sweat, … Bernie and Serena are quite satisfied. Actually, satisfied isn't the word, because they never seem to get enough.

Today, it happened more than once, which is unusual. Usually, three or four times a week, together at least. Because yes, even if shagging is satisfactory, sometimes Bernie just isn't around when Serena needs it the most at her desk, or Serena is occupied managing the team while Bernie is left shivering behind the closed door of their office.

Presently, after a difficult day where trauma calls arrived all at once, the ward is now calmer. No longer with critical cases, each patient stabilised, red phone silent…

A small, very, very small storage room, barely lit with the small help of one dusty lightbulb hanging from the low ceiling. Barely having space for two people and a few boxes…. Anyhow, here they are.

White blouse and black skinny jeans for Bernie; royal blue camisole and dark trousers for Serena. Her orange blouse is lying somewhere on the floor.  

The position they decided to go on with was at first practical, related to the size of the room, but it soon became a necessity as they couldn't figure out any other position to ease their frenzy longing.

Bernie's back is flat against the wall, as her whole weight is supported by her left leg. Her right leg is hoisted horizontally, not too high, since her foot is set on a box at the wall opposite of her. In this position, Serena is standing up, arms encircling Bernie, both of her legs at either side of Bernie's thigh, and her hot core pressing on Bernie's skinny jeans.

In adoration of those long thighs, Serena knows just what to do with them, at Bernie's invitation, as she is offered the full length of her thigh for Serena to rub herself against it, fully clothed (except for Serena's orange blouse, thrown somewhere on the floor).

How did they end up here, in this minuscule, barely lit, storage room? The thick walls give the impression of the rest of the existence's absence. A prehistoric cave; a sunken boat; a high tower; a private bubble.

While Bernie murmurs words of encouragement while holding her by the waist ( _Yes that's it. Oh yes. Ah, ah... Serena. More. More_ ), Serena's frantic breathing is hummed in the curve of Bernie's shoulder. Her sticky forehead is pressed against the bare skin of Bernie's neck, at the juncture of the collar of the white blouse. Each thrust of Serena's sex against the skinny jeans brings their bodies nearer and hotter. Serena holds herself with one hand in blonde hair, feeling the shape of Bernie's head in her palm, while her other hand is firmly grasping Bernie's thigh from underneath, easing the rubbing of her core against it, desperately grinding on Bernie. ( _You feel amazing. Go on, go on. Rub on me. Quietly, quietly darling…That's it_ )

Bernie manages to reduce Serena to whimpers in her neck, eyes firmly closed as she concentrates. Suddenly, Serena creates rapid but short rubs, as she usually does when her orgasm is approaching. 

The eager hands of Bernie move from the brunette's waists to her rear, holding firmly to her, in order to uphold her in rhythm, invigorated by the pace of her rocking. Bernie can hear her hidden whimpers, she can sense her breathing through the rapid rise and fall of her chest against hers. Bernie worships the tightness in both of Serena's thighs clenching around her leg.

( _I can feel how wet you are. This is going to show through our clothes. Do you know that? You are so wet, you feel so good…_ )

It happens. Serena's holding herself on the tip of her shoes, her orgasm consuming her body, pressing firmly onto Bernie, knees bent. Her mouth is agape, no sound escaping, her damp breath sticking to Bernie's neck, holding firmly to her big macho army medic. 

Her last thrusts were firm and quick, Serena holding Bernie so tightly that their heads are slightly banging on the wall behind her. Slowly, Serena lets go and looks into Bernie's eyes through heavy eyelids.  

"You…your turn…," Serena barely manages to talk, her throat sandy from covering her moans. Her numb fingers begin to unzip Bernie's jeans.

"Not enough time. Gather your strength. Besides, I've started my periods today, not very practical," Bernie adds, nonetheless content.

"Oh," disappointment is pretty much obvious in Serena's voice.

They awkwardly dismantle themselves, stretch muscles and wince. Serena bends over to recollect her blouse that was thrown on the floor and takes that time to confess something.

"Do, um," she clears her throat, "do you realize we are too old for this?" Serena blurts out, a hint of amusement and wonder in her voice. As she puts on her wrinkled orange blouse, she grunts from discomfort, her back reminding her indeed that a more comfortable position could be just as much effective as shagging in a storage closet.

Blonde locks are tied back into a ponytail. Bernie clears her throat before daring to kiss Serena's neck.

"Next time, more old-style? Wine, mattress, pillows?" Bernie suggests, tender and hushed. It could have sounded like a pleasantry, but on the contrary, her suggestion is warm and tempting. At this precise moment, Serena is hypnotized. She stares at the dried sweat on Bernie's forehead, adores the light bags under her eyes and the sincerity on her smile.

"You know, Jason's not back until Thursday...," Serena whispers while readjusting Bernie's white blouse.

"Dinner?" Bernie continues, smiling and staring at Serena's messy hair.

"Tomorrow?"

"My place?"

"Okay."

Making sure the coast is clear, they exit the storage closet, proud and light.

**Author's Note:**

> Women in their fifties can be in menopause, or not. So, it means sometimes, menstruation happens, which complicates things. As happy as I am that both Bernie and Serena are never menstruating in the fics I read, I wanted to add it in mine, in respect of what can happen sexually speaking between two women.


End file.
